Death of an Assassin
by Ivory Crescendo
Summary: The Angel of Death had to meet his end somehow. But certainly, this was the way he least expected. Jaffar x Nino.
1. Prologue

_Prologue _

A human being has two essential virtues: reason, and subsequent action. Man cannot say he lives unless he possesses these two things. But when one is found without the other, then life, virtue, and desire are extinguished. Such was the case of one man—an assassin—a man who chose action without cause, a man who chose a life of death in order to escape the reality of understanding.

In the beginning, there was power. There was skill, there was cunning, there was a simple and physical existence motivated by an unnamed desire: a desire which, to acknowledge it, meant the shattering of his existence and his evolution as a different being. To acknowledge this desire meant to understand it and accept it, and to acknowledge himself a man. But in the beginning, he denied there was any desire at all.

Thus he forgot the luxury of life. He abandoned his own reason for the reason and desires of others—he became instead a person of skill, a machine without thought or purpose other than the master's objectives. He fought, not against his actions, but against his will; not against his master, but against himself. And he accomplished his solitary, personal objective in silence. His victory over himself was one without reason, one without passion, one without purpose, because he did not know the nature of desire, because he did not want or think or feel—or remember, in fact, what those three fundamentals meant.

Who, then, was the man before this empty shell? What was his story… before the beginning? It is a question I cannot answer, for no one knows—or understands, if he does know. But I do know this: the man I know now is a different man from the one who came before him—and I am a different woman from the one I was intended to be.

We are Jaffar and Nino, and this is our story.


	2. Chapter One

_Chapter One_

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"Jaffar."

At attention.

_A turn, a glide, a breath of cold, stale air against warm skin, a swish of a garment, a pair of footfalls rolling against stone—to be felt, not to be heard. To do, not to question._

_It was time._

"Jaffar, your orders."

Waiting.

_An upward movement of the chest. A strain against nothing._

_Exhale. _

_Time wastes._

"Location: city square, address twenty-four. Second-floor bedroom. Time: three in the morning. Target: occupant and possible surrounding occupants. Return to city outpost for subsequent orders."

Receiving.

_A nod of the head._

_Discard useless words; dissect information; process orders._

Watching.

_A shadow, a passing, a leave-taking of the one called Sonia; a light falling to the floor where a shadow once quavered; a sparkle of dust floating in a single bright column from above…_

_Silence._

Accomplishing.

_An escape, a flash of footfalls within a cloud of shadows, a release from uneasy solitude into the crowd outside._

_Blend._

_Disappear._

…_Wait._

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Sonia's daughter laughed that following morning.

This, she decided—this was the place she loved most. It was everything she could ever want in an afternoon out. Everything! All in once place, the city—the center where people mixed together in a huge, vibrant gathering—but everyone was different and had their own ideas and plans for the day. Their day. _Her_ day. You can be part of everything, she grinned to herself, but still be by yourself. You and the world and all this color and life. And as far as anyone knew, this whole city vista belonged to them and only to them.

Vibrant energy—sunlight—all forms of speech and excited action streamed from the street corners as human voices mingled in the joyful cacophony of morning market. It was a fair-sized castle town, built near the local lord's estate on the shores of the lake nearby. Cobblestones greeted the newcomers at the city gates, prosperous houses and military ramparts rose on either side of the main thoroughfare, and the wet, fresh smell of new-grown produce filled the streets at every angle. The morning sun put a purposeful step in everyone's walk, seeming to say "Hurry up! I'm not here to stay, you know!"

Nino paused on the curb, her feet rocking back and forth on the edge, and glanced admiringly as a group of horses pranced through the puddles of last night's thunderstorm. They were beautiful steeds, the kind Lloyd and Linus rode when they went out on long errands across the country. What if—she put out her hand—could she touch them? She swept her gaze over the riders. Their appearance was incongruous with the quality of their mounts. Simple travelers, in brown, dust-covered cloaks. Her hand fell to her side as she watched them, the horses forgotten. Who were they? Why were they here? They weren't merchants, certainly, nor government emissaries—they had rather the appearance of… well, of…

A sudden shrill whistle pierced her thoughts. She whirled around, narrowing her eyes and blinking in confusion.

"By order of the Fang, all citizens must evacuate the streets immediately! Do not leave your homes until further notice! By order of the Fang!"

As the streets reared up in sudden panic, roiling like a horse cut from its tether, her heart gave a dull thud in her chest. What was this? Door slammed around her ears, making her cringe and put her hands on her head. Why would the Fang do something like this in the city? It wasn't the policy! There were people who could get hurt! And who were the Fang actually after this time, especially since—

A hand grabbed her arm through the rushing crowd. It was a red-faced housewife clutching a chicken in her elbow and shuffling two small daughters into her house with the other hand.

"Miss, you must leave!" she admonished through her teeth, giving her the eye. "It's a battle! The Fang is going to go after its enemies right here, right now! It's for your own good, miss, believe me! The Fang will do the right thing, don't you know. Run along, run along!"

Nino ran.

The Fang's city outpost was located just two blocks away, where selected members of the assassins' guild would come for orders on specific days of the week. It was there that Nino ran, blood rushing to her head, teeth clenched in furious uncertainty and shame: today had been her day to be there for her own mission, by Sonia's explicit orders. Was it too late? Why was she not included in this? Was this what her orders were all about? How dare she miss something like this!

She burst into the front room of the small building, breathing hard.

"I'm here!" she shouted, coughing up dust from the streets. "I'm here! Where are you? Lloyd? Linus! I'm here!" Her voice was hoarse. "What's going on?"

No answer greeted her but the creak of hardwood floors, worn from use and stained with a few red splotches that no one had ever completely scrubbed out. The room was silent. A bright column of dust fell peacefully from a single skylight above, illuminating a desk covered with myriad papers and seals and red wax. The chair behind was empty.

"Lloyd? …Linus?" she called, stopping herself to clear her throat. "Mother!" she cried again, more strongly. Where were they?

Nino plopped down onto the window seat, elbows on her knees and head in her hands. She was a small figure there, collapsed against the wall, making a blur of pale green hair and a blue cape that one could barely call a "heap" with much certainty. A sigh escaped from her lips, gently stirring the dust floating in the air.

Some minutes later, she peeked out the window through her fingers.

"Beautiful weather," she mused, looking at the sunlit streets. A door slammed in the distance. "Perfect for taking on evildoers. Yet here I am again, running errands… and it's all my fault. I should've been here… should've gotten here sooner…" Her voice slipped away into a mumble. Her mind slipped into a daydream, and her finger traced a pattern on the unswept floor.

"The base is fire… fire, thunder, and wind… the spirit of nature, of life… first comes thought, then comes speech, then comes action, yielding the power—then comes the results and the pattern continues again… that's what Father told me… he's going to get me the Elfire tome before the end of the week… Mother said so… and Lloyd… Lloyd will like seeing it… where is Lloyd?"

A door slammed. She paused to glance out the window, but her glance suddenly fell on a dark, lithe figure staggering aimlessly towards her through the back entryway. With a jolt her body sprang up on its own accord, adrenaline coursing through her veins before she recognized the bloody features as the league's Angel of Death.

Nino exhaled. "Jaffar!" her voice breathed, anguished, at a loss for what to do.

The assassin made no response, but fell against the wall, clutching his side and fixing a strained, empty gaze on her face. His veil had slipped over one eye, giving him almost the appearance of a pirate, eye patch and all. The only visible indication of pain was his jaw, clenched tightly at a harsh and trembling angle. His face was pale.

"Jaffar! Don't scare me like that! Jaffar, what's… what's wrong? Are you okay? What happened? Were you the one—the one with my orders? You're never late for anything…"

She watched, uncertain, as he struggled to focus his gaze.

_A warmth spilling down the side, a strained memory of pain, an unexplained knowledge that such is failure…_

_Finding an objective—to do—not to question—what was it now?_

"My last job," his voice cracked, almost inhuman from lying unused for so long, "took longer than expected."

_No… that's not right…_

"But you're hurt! You're covered in blood!" she cried.

_Discard; redundant; information already known…_

"It's only… only a scratch. Pay it no heed."

_A misinformation to further the objective…_

…_what objective?..._

"Jaffar! No! Scratches don't bleed like that…!"

_An end in sight, a remembrance, a submission to the end…_

_Sight fades… time wastes… does all time finish, now?_

_Silence._

_Only uncertainty remains._

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